


The First Fold Of A New Paper

by gala_apples



Series: An Alphabet of Teen Wolf Crossovers [4]
Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Magic, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been ten years since the last person in Emelan was murdered by unmagic. Ten years, and there’s his dad, smeared with it. Isaac can’t say it killed him, the broken neck seems more to blame, but the unmagic is a twist the Provost Guard might find difficult. It figures that even in death his father is impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Fold Of A New Paper

The woman who comes in after nearly an hour of the Provost’s Guard asking questions is so bright with magic that Isaac falls to his knees. One of the guards kicks his thigh. “You must say your grace.”

“I’m not kneeling,” Isaac replies, like an idiot. Then he remembers that the Guard can treat him as badly as his father had, if they want. The likes of him can’t stand against the law. And they just might if they think he’s being disrespectful. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I mean I would- It’s just it wasn’t- You’re blinding!” Isaac appeals desperately.

“Can see the Duchess’s magic, can you?”

“The Duchess?” Duchess fa Toren is in his home and he just said he’s not bowing? Oh Tuhengi Stormlord, he’s in it deep now. Isaac drops until his butt is out and his forehead is touching the floor. If he’s luckily it’ll be enough to avoid a boot in his guts.

“Better!” The Harrier snaps out crisply. 

“Oh, Vani. Don’t act like I’ve ever stood on circumstance. Mr Lahey, I am sorry that I cannot leave yet. If you’d allow me to help?”

Isaac nods his head frantically, still not daring to look up. Whatever the Duchess wants.

“Stand?”

When he does, cool cloth is draped over his head. A veil, Isaac thinks. It feels light like one.

“It dulls stimuli. A friend of mine, his child experiences things so strongly she retreats into her own mind. The veil helps her when she must interact.”

Duchess fa Toren seems to make everything go much faster. It’s not that she asks different questions or looks at the unmagic differently. It’s just she does it all with a sense of power that doesn’t lead to anyone needing to do it another time after her. Her work is trusted, and Isaac is beginning to think he’ll get out of this without a truthsayer, or barring one in the area, some pain to encourage said truth. His neighbours have made it clear he’s a suspect by now.

“Can you read, boy?” A Harrier asks.

The Duchess doesn’t roll her eyes, of course. She’s hardly common enough for that. And yet Isaac feels like cringing anyway, as her entire demeanor goes hostile. “I hardly think his teacher would leave that unchecked, do you?”

“What teacher?” Isaac can’t help but ask. Usually asking is a dangerous choice. Much better to be ignored. Everyone knows Mage Rose and his own student were both once street urchins though. The Duchess has a history of defending and befriending the lower class, so she probably won’t hurt him for speaking out of turn.

“Your magic teacher,” a different Harrier says, a hint of contempt in his voice.

“I don’t have a teacher. I know I have magic, but it’s ambient. Paper magic.” Not useless, Isaac refuses to say that in front of the woman who can stop hurricanes with her thread, but useless to his father. “My abilities do nothing for my job, and so my father won’t pay for lessons. Wouldn’t, I guess. Maybe...”

Isaac trails off as he begins to do the mathematics in his head. The house will be down to one income, but that income won’t be spent mostly on spirits. Maybe he could afford to have a teacher.

He’s drawn out of his thoughts by the Duchess getting haughty, as the royal class do. What makes it odd is that she’s upset on his behalf. “Your father never should have stopped you! Whatever it is you do-”

“He’s a gravedigger, your grace.”

“I’m sure there is some way your paper magic could help. And even if it absolutely couldn’t, you still have a right to knowledge! Come to the Citadel at four in the afternoon tomorrow and we’ll begin-”

The handsome man who previously asked if Isaac could read approaches the Duchess, though he stands far enough back to remain respectful. “Actually, your grace, I was hoping to take him on.”

“You consult with the Harriers due to your scrying, am I correct Master Hale? I do have experience teaching students with ambient magic not my own. Do you?”

“Captain Qais didn’t assign me here. I scryed Isaac joining my household a week ago.”

Duchess fa Toren nods her head once to Master Hale, then turns her back on the apparent not a Harrier. Isaac wants to retreat when she next swoops in on him. It _is_ swooping, for all that she is one of the most petite women Isaac’s met. Those weak of muscle or small of stature don’t tend to last in the grave digging business. Somehow though, Isaac can imagine the Duchess doing it for a long day with ease. She’s just that powerful.

“Master Lahey, you have a choice. You need to learn your strengths and limitations, even if your control is strong. But you can choose between Consultant Hale and myself.”

Hale foresaw him, who is Isaac to argue with fate? Besides, he can’t imagine ever being comfortable in the home of a Duchess. Harrier life isn’t that much above the death guild. Hale’s world will better fit his own.

“Master Hale, if it pleases?”

She nods again. “I will leave you with my veil. That should be the first thing you teach him.”

Hale stares at him. It would be more intimidating on another day, when Isaac’s emotions haven’t already been battered. “Gather your belongings. Not just what you need tonight. You will be living with me for at least a year. There’s no need to keep a place such as this. Once you have your mage’s medallion you’ll be able to afford far better. Assuming you don’t pledge to the temple.”

Isaac doesn’t mind leaving this place. All the walls are covered in stains from blood and vomit and thrown plates. There would be a punishment if dinner wasn’t made properly, but it rarely sat well with the alcohol ever present in his father’s gut.

“My husband is a merchant. He’ll make sure you get fair price for what’s left.”

Isaac can’t help the snort.

“You have a problem with my having a husband?” Hale asks. His tone is dangerous. Isaac doesn’t doubt a punch from him would hurt more than father’s does -did- especially when he’s sloppy with drink. Hale doesn’t look like he’s been sloppy a minute of his life.

“No. Not, not at all. I have a male lover, actually. I just can’t imagine anyone wanting this ugly old furniture.” Isaac won’t miss a speck of it.

“If there’s anything he’s taught me it’s that one man’s waste is another man’s treasure.” Hale’s expression changes to fond for a moment. It’s enough to ease Isaac’s fears, if only a little. Hale is capable of warmth. He’s not walking out of his father’s door only to climb in through the window.

Isaac gathers what little he wants for the future. Some clothing, trinkets from his lovers, Camden’s favourite knife. Of course all the paper he’s hidden from his father’s scornful hands. If things go well Hale should provide him with more, but it twinges in his soul to leave even a scrap behind.

He gets to the front door, Hale following close behind. The Seer bumps into his back as Isaac stops abruptly. He can’t quite believe he can just leave now, that the Provost Guard don’t want to take him back to the district watchhouse. “You’re- you’re just letting me leave with him? No more questions?”

“The Duchess knows what she is doing. No doubt you’ve heard stories.”

Isaac knows the story. Her student danced assassins into a net and the Duchess unwove it and tore them to shreds. Some people condemn the ruthlessness of the act. Most are proud to have a strong ruler, or at least feel safer that way. Pirates wear clothes, after all. She could probably strangle a hundred raiders before they even got off their ship.

Isaac knows better than to say any of that though. He doesn’t yet know what vexes his new teacher. Hale could be one of the minority that believes peaceful hearts are more important than long lives. He nods at the Harrier instead.

“Then you must realise that if she thought you were guilty, you’d be in chains. Her judgement of innocence is unquestionable. After Wulfric Snaptrap died, it was her work that solved the Rokat case. She has exonerated you.”

Isaac’s heart beats double time at the thought that her brief run of questions was enough to settle his life’s fate. It’s not that he doesn’t trust her skills. Those are legendary, far beyond seeing traces of unmagic. It’s just that had he not cowered enough, or cowered too much, and she interpreted that differently, he might have been hung for murder, or sent to the quarries, a death sentence in it’s own right.

There’s only one thing that will truly calm him. “I need to go somewhere.”

“Lead the way,” Hale says. For all the gruff tone, he didn’t have to say yes. It’s another reassurance that Isaac’s in less danger than he was only yesterday.

This time of day Isaac knows exactly where his lovers are. As an exile, a Trangshi, Boyd opened a merchant’s booth for his pottery. At first it was half fueled by spite. Losing money on investing in supplies Boyd had survived due only to Isaac risking his father’s wrath to bring him food, and Erica helping him find places to shelter. Now Boyd’s business booms, because plates made by an ambient mage make food taste better, or detect poison, or simply don’t break no matter the height dropped from. Boyd chose the love of creating over his family, and he’s happy with the decision, but Isaac can sometimes still see the loneliness creeping in. Isaac’s not going to just abandon him, no matter what Derek’s methods might be. Even if Erica might foresee this, he still wants to tell them in person.

It’s easy to get lost in the market. The space is first come first served, once you get past the gate with the vendor’s fee. They only grant space, not the guarantee of well placed space, or foot traffic. But Erica and Boyd are the early to rise, late to bed type, and since they’re usually within the first ten set ups, Boyd’s booth is usually in the same place. It’s only weaving through the maze of haphazardly set up latecomers that can give Isaac a problem. But make it he does, with Derek doggedly behind him. After the craziness and surprise the morning, they’re a familiar sight for sore eyes. Unfortunately Erica is only half visible laid out on the thin but soft pallet behind the shelves of merchandise. It’s another familiar sight, but one Isaac hates more with each view of it.

“Hey ‘zac,” she slurs tiredly. Her seizure must have just ended, then. Isaac slips into the back of the booth, intent on stroking the hair off her sweaty forehead.

“You’re up early,” Boyd observes. “Not many graves last night?”

“There were,” Isaac says, then hesitates. He knows how his lovers will react when they find out, and it’s not a reaction that Hale as a Harrier Consultant will like. Nor is it a reaction that Hale could avoid hearing. He’s standing on the other side of Boyd’s largest table, fists planted on his hips. He’ll hear every crude word they have to say, and might wonder about their motives.

“As was his father in a grave this morning,” Hale says for him.

“The kaq is dead?” Boyd asks.

“Goo’ rih’ence.” Erica mutters.

Isaac looks to Hale. He doesn’t look particularly like he’s about to accuse either of them of committing the murder themselves. Good, because Isaac was sleeping until the Provost Guard knocked with their news. He couldn’t provide an alibi that would last through a single glance of a truthsayer. “Hale has chosen to mentor me.”

Boyd grabs him into a hug, and even Erica lifts her arm to pat his thigh.

“Finally someone to teach you everything about paper. Lucky you! I only wish I had a pottery teacher.”

Hale crosses his arms. “If your pottery does what it claims, you are a good welder of magic yourself.”

“It does and he is,” Isaac defends.

“Yes, but growing up T’shawha? That didn’t teach me any process of creation, and everything I’ve learned was with a sense of rebellion. A teacher could teach me how to do it with a sense of calm.”

“If you were any calmer you’d be dead,” Erica slurs. Isaac doesn’t comment, but he thinks Erica is right. While Isaac does things out of fear, and the want of having a few beautiful things between the death and the dirt under his fingernails and empty bottles thrown at him, Boyd always does things with a well thought out serenity.

“Hale is taking me to live with him. I don’t know when next I’ll see you.” Isaac doesn’t even know how far away Hale lives. If his scrying is particularly accurate, he might come in from leagues away on Captain Qais’ behest.

“Erica will find the way. Or write us a letter. Your envelopes always find the true way to a person.”

Isaac bends down for a kiss from his girlfriend. Any more and it feels like harassment when she’s recovering. But a kiss is alright, and he needs hers as much as Boyd’s. What they have isn’t possible with only two.

“Where are we going?” Isaac asks as they struggle through the thick crowd on their way out of the market.

Hale bypasses the question completely. “Are your friends going to be honest with the Harriers when they come to ask questions about you?”

“The Provost’s Guard isn’t going to bother finding them. No one cares what people one step above street rat have to say. And they’re lovers, not friends.” Isaac is firm with every sentence. The third is certain, the first two are a hope. But he can try to be optimistic, and he wants to believe Erica and Boyd will be left alone. They don’t deserve to have his father’s latest disaster -last disaster- fall on their shoulders.

“The woman. Is she a drunk like your father?”

A book flies from a nearby cart and opens to hit Derek in the face with its pages. Derek catches it when it falls, leaving a red looking thin separation of skin on his cheek.

“Really?”

Isaac doesn’t answer. It’s not a question meant to be answered. And anyway, as angry as he is, he’s not quite daring enough to say the older man deserved it.

“She’s not a drunk. I don’t know how you scryed me, bowl of water or looking into a mineral or what. She scrys wind. It’s so rare no adult will admit she has the skill. Healer mages put her on all sorts of experimental drugs to stop her madness. Even once she escaped there were permanent side effects. One is every vision comes with a seizure.”

“Better healer mages couldn’t-”

 

“I said permanent, didn’t I? So now she doesn’t seek out information often. Only when it’s direly important. The pallet is for if there’s an unexpected gust of wind and it hits her the right way. Not because she can’t stand. I hardly want that in my life twice.” 

Isaac follows Hale up Ruby Street and past Clove Road. They stop finally at a shop with a sign painted in a blue two shades lighter than the Harrier uniform. Derek walks in with confidence, and a bell attached to the door rings. As far as Isaac can see the noise isn’t needed to gather the attention of the merchant, who is already leaving his place to greet them.

“This is Isaac. Isaac, Stiles.”

Stiles’ lips part in a wide grin. “Walk with me so I can see what assets we can turn into silver crescents for you.”

Derek slides behind the counter like he’s been minding the store for his whole life, despite being a Harrier, and Winding Circle trained. Isaac is clearly left with no choice but to follow Stiles right back out of the shop.

“I hope you work out better for him,” Stiles says abruptly, two streets of silence later. “Honestly, I’m surprised he was willing to try again.”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t me tellin’ you secrets. All of this is readily found information, should you look. I’m just saving you a step.”

Isaac offers the absolution of nodding his head.

“His first student was when he was a teen. Not as precocious as the Bound Circle crew, you know, Smithee Kisubo and Duchess Fa Toren and the other two. But young, still. She didn’t listen to his warnings and killed herself going too far. His second student was a mage with fire. She really should have been watched better. She was with Derek because the Fire Temple wouldn’t have her. She burned down Derek’s home and killed nearly all his family. Healer mages can only do so much. And finally there’s Scott. My best friend and brother. Strong ability with scrying in mirrors, and he turned down Derek flat. Didn’t want to learn from him.”

“So I’m his fourth?”

“You’ll be the first to make him happy. The first to succeed. You’re the first that matters, Isaac.”

Isaac’s never been told that before. Not even by his lovers. The words are a single page of importance in a journal of insults and worthlessness, but he still appreciates them. Maybe he’ll earn more in the future. Maybe being Derek’s student will be the second thing in his life to go right.


End file.
